1: Naughty (no spoilers)

It took longer than Nic had expected for one of the robots to bring it up. She half-suspected most of them had just accepted it, having in-head access to the internet to just look it up. It was likely they just didn't give a hoot, given how differently they all looked, bits of car origami and wheels hanging off elbows and legs and wherever. A human with heavily freckled skin was just another variation in the species.

But she knew a question would come, sooner or later; it happened whenever she took up with a new group of people, so she had her usual "I just am, that's it" reply ready. So far none of her fellow humans had remarked on it, but she half suspected they, like she, were still stuck in oh my god, giant robots! mode rather than worry about one girl's 'melanin distribution problem' as one of her cousins had once put it.

Somehow, that it came from Sideswipe didn't surprise her a bit. He'd been on the planet less than two weeks and he was already giving the little gaggle of human allies the one of these things is not like the others look. And sure enough, right after a mission debriefing...

"How come you're all spotty and the other humans aren't?"

And maybe it was that he just pushed her mental junior high school buttons, but she discarded the polite answer and went straight for the ol' Darling wiseacre: "It's so when I stalk in the tall grasses of the wild Kansas prairie, I can sneak up on my prey without being seen."

The muffled choking sound from the other end of the human-sized table on the platform was Sam swallowing his gum via aborted laugh, accompanied by a couple guffaws from the soldiers.

Sideswipe eyed the humans' amused expressions dubiously. "Really?"

"They are called freckles. Can you not reference the internet?" Whiplash looked positively scandalized. "It is considered rude to--"

"No, it's okay, Whip. Obvious question is obvious." Nic laughed, accepting a hand down from her partner to the floor level. "It's not like I hide 'em or anything!"


The next day, Sidewipe sought her out and presented her with a penny.

Baffled, Nic took the shiny copper coin from the delicate pinch between the robot's large thumb and forefinger. "Uh, thanks?"

"No problem!" Sideswipe beamed happily, whistling some multi-tonal tune as he transformed and zoomed off. Nic stared after the cherry-red Lamborghini for a few seconds, then pocketed the penny and went to get a cheeseburger.


A couple days later, she was watching Whiplash and Bumblebee practice-spar in one of the many little blind gullies in their designated canyon land. It was a close match, despite the disparate sizes of the combatants; Bumblebee was quick and had strength and mass on his side, but Whiplash was lighter and quicker by a good margin. Nic and Sam and a few other humans and robots, perched on the rim safely above the clashing metal, genially trash-talking and betting, marveled at the almost poetic grace with which the robots fought.

The mood came to an awkward halt when Sideswipe appeared, driving up behind the spectators and transforming to walk up, reaching around Ironhide to tap Nic on the shoulder.

"Hey, Nic, hey," he said in a low, oddly discreet tone that could nonetheless be clearly heard by all present, "I found a wheat field about thirty miles east on County Road 12. If you get there before dawn there might be some dew."

"Oh...kay...?" Nic blinked up at him. Sideswipe nodded, looking satisfied and pleased, and strode off, seemingly unaware of the confounded stares he was getting.

Bobby elbowed her. "What was he..."

"Not a clue."

"Ha!" Sam crowed. "Whip's down! That's twenty you owe me, Nic!"


"--haven't worked on a motorcycle engine before, though."

"Oh, it's not that different, from what I can tell. I should tell my uncle to send over that '68 Harley he's got lying around, I bet you could get it working again. He'd probably write you into the will if you did."

Mikaela snickered. "Oh, that would be fun. Does he--"

"Nic?" A now-familiar mechanical voice cut into the conversation and the two women looked up at the red robot looming eagerly over them.

"I couldn't find a frog, but maybe this'll work just as well?" Sideswipe thrust something lumpy and brown down at human-eye-level between the girls. Mikaela let out an involuntary squeal and hopped backwards, and Nic recoiled slighly as well, while the fat baseball-sized toad in Sideswipe's hand merely blinked balefully at her.

Nic was starting to wonder if this is what happened if Salvador Dali programmed robots when it clicked.

Whiplash, drawn by Mikaela's exclamation, took one look at the toad and peered up at Sideswipe. "What in the Pit is all this nonsense you keep bothering Nic with?"

"But you said check the internet!" Sideswipe protested, and the toad sprang out of his hand. Nic reflexively caught it, a childhood spent partly in mudholes and creeks with her boy cousins inuring her against any stereotypical girlish disgust with the animal.

"Sideswipe, I don't want to get rid of my freckles." Nic held the toad captive. It wouldn't do for the creature to get stepped on. "And even if I did, none of these things would have worked."

"But... not even the gravestone water thing?"

"I take back my suggestion," Whiplash said flatly. "You should abstain from the internet."

Mikaela and Nic just looked at each other as Sideswipe began to assert that something wouldn't be on the internet if it weren't true. The two of them were gone, toad and all, by the time Whiplash began to argue that the internet wasn't at all like a Cybertronian informational network/database. The girls made it all the way outside the base, wordlessly releasing the poor toad back into the wild, before dissolving into laughter.


Nobody claimed direct responsibility for covering Sideswipe with thousands of white spots while he recharged, but Whiplash was kind enough to give him a penny with which to 'remove' them.


Author's Note: Aw, the big lug was just trying to be helpful! But can you blame him for being confused? There are some truly weird folk remedies/myths about freckle removal out there. Rubbing with a penny, counting out as many pebbles as you have spots and then throwing them away (lol wut), washing with dew from a wheat field or rainwater from a gravestone, rubbing your freckles with a live frog...? And that's not counting the really gross ones. Facial scrub made from crocodile entrails! Baby pee! Cow manure! Nic should be thankful Sideswipe only got as far as the frog!

TLRH: Progress being made. Drama in real life (thankfully none of it directly mine): not conducive to writing. But it's coming soon. These 28-meme ficlets really help the creative process along.